


What Gets You Through

by cher



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alchemy for Fun and Profit (and survival), Canadian Shack, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trick or Treat: Treat, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cher/pseuds/cher
Summary: Ed, Mustang, Ed's giant crush, and the middle of nowhere.





	What Gets You Through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> A nebulous future where Ed is about twenty, and working as an occasional contractor to Mustang's team. Mostly he's a researcher and investigator, and sometimes he's still tracking down rogue alchemists.

It was pure fucking luck that they didn't die, and it would have served them both right if they had. Ed was an idiot for thinking he could still take on combat alchemists all by himself, and Mustang was an idiot for _jumping off a moving train_ after him. Who the hell would even do that? It was the dumbest thing he'd ever seen, and he was so pissed off with the stupid bastard that he felt perfectly fine ignoring Al's voice in his head reminding him that he'd jumped off the train first, and it certainly hadn't been for the first time. 

Whatever. Bastard could have killed himself, and then where would Ed be? And the rest of the fucking country, come to that, not to mention all their neighbours they weren't fighting wars with because of Mustang. He couldn't die, he had too damn much to do. 

"Goddammit, Fullmetal, slow down!" 

Ed had such a head of steam going that Mustang couldn't keep up even when Ed was this banged around. He guessed he still had some of his old grit after all, then. He'd better; he didn't think he was going to be able to keep going much longer. The wound in his side was going to be a problem, but if he could get them past the treeline he could at least make sure they had shelter. He was sort of afraid he might pass out if he took too long getting there, though. 

"Ed! Will you just stop a moment?" Mustang sounded closer, but Ed didn't want to look over his shoulder to check. The blood on his old CO's face was freaking him out, which was weird. He didn't usually mind blood, but apparently he did mind seeing Mustang hurt. It was doing something weird to his guts, somewhere under the towering rage about the jumping out of trains, and who was and was not allowed to do that. His blood pressure was all over the place, what with the blood loss and the rage. 

He missed a step, staggered, and almost went down face first in the snow. Apparently Mustang had been closer than he thought, though, because instead of cold and wet, his face was suddenly warm. He got a nose full of Mustang's scent where his cheek was pressed against damp blue wool, and he actually felt his shoulders drop an inch or so. Great, now his dumb lizard brain thought the bastard was a source of comfort. Wasn't it in for a nasty shock. 

"Are you all right? I thought that last volley got through to you...?"

Ed indulged himself in a long inhale, savoring the Mustang-smell since it'd probably never happen again. His slightly-slashed-open side hated it, but whatever. "Fine, bastard. I'm not the one jumping off trains when I don't know how to land, am I." 

"You make it look so easy, I thought anyone could do it," he said, and oh shit, Ed must look like he was going to keel right over if the bastard was being _kind_ to him. 

"Whatever. Let's just get to the trees, and then I can make us some shelter." Honesty compelled him to amend that. "Well. I'll draw you an array, and you can make us some shelter."

Mustang's grip tightened before he let go, as if he wanted to hug him but didn't think Ed would let him. Ed would let him do all kinds of things, actually, but that would be spectacularly stupid beyond even Ed's own storied history, so that was that. 

"I've never been all that good with transmuting structures. I'm not sure how much use I'll be."

"You'll be fine. I'll do all the thinking, all you need to do is activate it. So long as you trust my array, we're all good." He paused. "Uh. If you do trust my arrays, I guess. Me and Al do it all the time, I guess it might be a big deal for you. Don't worry, I'll explain it all."

"All right. Let's just get you there. Not much further."

Ed was about to accuse him of blatant lies, or possibly failure to judge the distance correctly with one eye, but that would have been uncharitable when Mustang had just saved him from an undignified face-plant. It'd be incorrect as well, really, because Mustang had learned to compensate so well for the depth perception problem that he'd lost almost nothing in precision. It was really hot, how hard he'd worked to regain his skill. Ed hoped he was better than he thought he was at hiding his thoughts on the topic. 

It really wasn't much further, and so they stumbled their way past the tree line and out of the worst of the wind. They were lucky all round today: that neither of them were dead of train-jumping or asshole alchemists, that Ed hadn't passed out from blood loss just yet, that Hawkeye and Al would already be bullying train drivers and local jeep owners into a search party, and now, that they'd stumbled on a copse of dead trees. Perfect building material. 

"Help me clear the snow a bit, will you? Let's see what ground we're working with." 

Ed must be starting to fade out a bit, because he jumped when Mustang snapped and the snow vaporised. He'd been thinking of kicking it away, but of course the Flame Alchemist was both a show-off and actually annoyingly useful. Possibly, Ed was just getting used to doing things the long way, but he didn't really want to think about that. 

The ground looked rocky. Well, that was good. Stone, wood, earth, everything the Fullmetal Alchemist needed. Fuck, but losing a fight made him maudlin. Good thing he'd had Mustang around to win it for him in the end. 

"Right. Got anything for me to draw on?"

Mustang handed him a sheaf of folded paper and a ridiculously fancy pen. He shrugged when Ed eyed him. "If you think the Lieutenant got on a train with me and didn't use the opportunity to try to make me sign reports, you're not the investigator I thought you were."

Was that an actual compliment? Shit, he better hurry up and make them a place to crash, because he really must look bad. "Uh-huh. And you stuffed it in your pocket and jumped off a train to get away from her, so good luck with that when she finds us."

Mustang put his nose in the air. It was a slightly ridiculous effect, what with the blood drying on his cheek. "My duty to comrade and country was clear. I jumped after you entirely for the mission."

Ed snorted. "Okay. You let me know how that argument goes." He started drawing, alchemical symbols flowing neatly in crisp black ink. He pulled the array together just as easily as he always had in his mind, swapping elements in and out on the fly. The knowledge was all still there, but the lines on the page were just lines, inert under his fingertips. Like he'd be himself, if he didn't get a move on. 

"All right, Mustang. It's one long transmutation, so you need to keep your attention on it. You're forcing the rocks out of the soil, shaping the granite for foundations, pulling out the trace metals for the fittings, and then pulling in the wood for the hut. Following?"

Mustang looked at the array, frowning. "I didn't think you could chain that many transmutations together. Are you sure I can do it?"

"I used to do this shit all the time, and precision is your thing. You'll be fine. Just don't let it get away from you."

Mustang nodded, tight and sharp, and touched his fingertips to the array. The light was clear and blue and the ozone smell made Ed's bones ache with longing. The way the hut formed up perfectly under Mustang's intent gaze made him ache almost as much. The man was unfairly attractive standing around doing nothing, but performing complex alchemy just because Ed said he could do it? He was downright lethal. Or maybe that was the giant gash in Ed's side. Fuck. Okay. That was the snow, then. 

* * *

Ed smelled wood smoke. He struggled toward consciousness, and then kind of wished he hadn't. Ow. He really hadn't missed post-fight full body aches. His side hurt like a bitch where the asshole alchemist had got him with his controlled shrapnel attack, but he hadn't bled out while he was unconscious, so maybe it hadn't been as bad as he'd thought. His everything else ached, because that was what happened when you jumped off trains and then got into fist fights with crazy alchemists. His port ached, because snow. Ugh. Maybe Al had a point about Ed's life choices. 

But hey, he was lying on some nice, if uneven, wooden floor boards, looking up at a ceiling that would keep the snow away from him. And there was a fire going in the stone fireplace, too. Looked like they were going to survive the night. Points for him and his array, and points to Mustang for not fucking the transmutation up. Ed snickered to himself, looking at the little gargoyles he'd added to the design of the fireplace. He really, really wished he'd been awake to see Mustang's face when he discovered that Ed had made him create them. It would have been so awesome. 

Ed was starting to poke cautiously at the attempt Mustang had made at bandaging his side when the door opened, letting in a blast of cold air and Mustang, who still had blood all over his cheek. He looked for Ed immediately, and some of the tightness in his face eased when he saw Ed was looking back. 

"Glad to see you're awake, Fullmetal. Though I do like to have some warning before my team faints in the field. Why didn't you tell me you were injured?"

"Eh," said Ed. "Wasn't going to get us here any faster. And don't think I haven't noticed that limp, you hypocritical bastard."

He put his armload of firewood down and crouched down next to Ed. "I'm a General, being a hypocrite is in my job description."

Ed could actually hear the unspoken 'so there', and it was hilariously childish. He grinned. "So, we're even. And not dead, so whatever. Did you check me for shrapnel before you covered it?"

Mustang poked at the bandages, apparently checking for tightness. His gloved fingertips grazed Ed's stomach as he went, and a shiver raised goosebumps over his skin. Oh, fuck, Ed hoped there wasn't going to be much more random touching, or he was going to embarrass himself. That tiny touch felt so good. 

"I couldn't see anything obvious, but I didn't want to risk more bleeding. We'll get you checked out properly once the cavalry gets here."

Ed struggled to sit up, and Mustang caught his arm to help him. Damn, his hands were big. Doomed, Ed was doomed. But then what was new? "I figure they're not going to get to us until mid-morning tomorrow at least. They'd have had to keep the train going to the next town and then find some good transport, and they won't be able to drive at night. About right?"

Mustang made a noise of agreement, his attention apparently on Ed's midsection. Looking for any sudden darkening of the bandages, Ed guessed. "I'll make some fireworks for them tomorrow so they know where we are," he said. "And speaking of which, Fullmetal, that array of yours almost had me in the snow right next to you. You didn't tell me it was going to pull so much from me."

Ed blinked at him. "Huh. It shouldn't have done that, but then the only alchemist I know who's ever used my arrays is Al, so maybe the chaining takes practice? It was awesome, though, wasn't it? We should experiment some more, when it's not the middle of nowhere."

"And with less serious wounding, yes, perhaps. It was impressive." Mustang looked at him with as sincere an expression as Ed had ever seen on him. Ed glowed with pride. He didn't get to show off very often these days. "Although, Fullmetal...next time less gargoyles. For a second there I thought I'd messed up the reaction and gotten a golem."

Ed thought of the larger, winged gargoyle he'd decided should go on the point of the roof and grinned. It'd turned out well, then, by the sound of it. Next time, _more_ gargoyles. He'd take his fun where he could get it. 

"So, given how well that worked, I'm going to need some more of your arrays. I want to make a blanket out of our coats, but I've never been any good at fabric transmutations." 

"Oh...that's not a bad idea. Sure. Actually, I did this once before. If you take off your cavalry skirt, we can use it to make a sort-of mattress. Here." Ed grabbed the fancy-ass pen and the sadly neglected reports, and sketched out an array. "You're thinning the wool of the skirt a lot, so you'll have to be careful, but essentially you're making a big sack out of it. As large as you can get away with before the fabric gets so thin it rips. Then we can stuff it with pine needles, and it'll make a pretty good place to sleep. Better than the boards, anyway."

Ed tried really hard not to think about what this was all leading to, and instead watched Mustang activate the array. He went slowly and carefully this time, and Ed hadn't thought a man like him could be gentle with his alchemy, but that was the impression it left. It was actually kind of beautiful, watching the reaction from the outside like this. The cavalry skirt expanded, draping itself over Ed like a blanket as it grew. It was nice to be using his arrays to make things for comfort rather than combat, and Ed thought maybe Mustang agreed, if the tiny pleased smile on his face was any indication. 

"Awesome. So, I'll make you a blanket array, and you go and find us pine needles. You know how to pull the moisture out of them so they're dry, yeah?"

The man nodded, and went back outside with their almost-a-mattress. Ed amused himself drawing arrays he thought they'd find useful, poking at his various injuries, and tried not to think about Mustang lying next to him on the bed they were making. But the arrays didn't need much thought, the injuries weren't anything to worry about now that he'd stopped bleeding everywhere—even if his side did hurt like a bitch—and his ex-CO was very distracting. It was going to be a long night. 

It wasn't long before the door opened again, and Mustang was back. Together, they pushed their mattress into shape and Ed showed Mustang how to seal the open edge, and how to turn their coats into the blanket Mustang had wanted. When they were done, the little bed looked cosy, but tiny. Ed thought about lying pressed against Mustang's bulk and shivered. 

He'd caught them rabbit for dinner, only slightly pre-charred. Ed volunteered to dress the meat, and they cooked it on wooden skewers over their fire, washed down with melted snow. It made Ed think of Ling, which also made him think of other things that happened beside campfires in shared bedrolls. It was an inconvenient thought to have, and he could feel his face flush. He shifted uncomfortably. 

"Are you all right? Do you need to lie down again?"

Ed coughed. Which, ow. "No, bastard, it's fine. Sort-of-fine. Not worse than it was. Also, I didn't say at the time—because what the fuck, jumping out of trains, Mustang—but thanks for the save. I'm pretty sure he would have gotten away from me without you."

"Mmm, watching people jump off of moving trains is alarming, isn't it? Perhaps we should both agree not to do that again." Ed snorted. "Really, Fullmetal, I feel confident in saying your brother agrees. The only reason he didn't jump after you as well was that I did, and you know he's not indestructible any more."

Ed swallowed. "Yeah. Thanks."

Mustang grinned suddenly, an expression that Ed had never seen on him before. It made him look much younger. "It was fun, though. I haven't had a good fight like that in years. Maybe I should escape the office and chase rogue alchemists with you more often."

Ed smiled back. "Maybe you should. Might be good for you. I'll show you how to knock down buildings." 

His companion huffed a surprised laugh, which kind of ruined the attempt to glare at Ed. 

They cleared away the remains of their meal and rubbed their greasy hands clean on snow outside the door. Ed did his best to clean the lingering, now-dried blood from Mustang's face, which turned out to come from a small, deep cut across his cheekbone. Touching his face felt unbearably intimate, and he breathed carefully the entire time, trying not to betray the longing he felt. Mustang watched him inscrutably. 

Cleaner, and well fed, they dug out a frayed pack of cards that had apparently shared pocket-space with the much-defaced report and played idly for a while. It was the least competitive Ed could ever remember feeling, especially where Mustang was concerned. The lulls in conversation felt comfortable, if charged with the knowledge of the night's sleeping arrangements. The little hut was warm, cosy and dim, with only the glow from their fire to provide light, and his belly was full. It was the most content Ed could ever remember being without Al. 

Outside, the sun was down and the temperature was dropping fast. Soon, their fire would lose the battle to keep the chill at bay. By mutual decision, they dragged their makeshift bed over to the fire. 

They took off their boots and belts, Ed with a certain amount of embarrassment and Mustang as unreadable as ever in his shirtsleeves and trousers. Ed could see his muscled forearms, his lean collarbones and a distracting triangle of chest, and he fought a battle with himself over whether to look, and store up memories for later, or not to look so he wouldn't be too keyed up when he climbed into bed. It was a futile battle—Ed knew he just didn't have the kind of self control it would take _not_ to look at Mustang. He was too beautiful in the firelight. 

Mustang crawled under their coat-blanket first, and then held it up for Ed. Oh, shit, did he want Ed to lie against his chest? He wasn't sure his heart could take it. Damn this stupid crush and its ridiculous longevity. Surely they weren't supposed to outlast your teens. 

"I'm sorry about this, Ed, but you lost a lot of blood today and we need to keep you warm. Will you let me?" 

Ed closed his eyes and nodded. Refusing wasn't in him, even knowing how much he'd probably come to regret it. Memories like this, the once-and-never-again kind—some of them just ate at him, afterward, twisting him up with frustrated longing. But there was nothing for it but to kneel down and crawl into Mustang's embrace, and feel his body go haywire with its animal-stupid happiness at being so close to the source of all the good chemicals firing in his brain. 

They shuffled around until they found a position that didn't put pressure on Ed's wounded side, and when Mustang didn't seem to notice Ed's internal pyrotechnics, Ed's muscles slowly relaxed. Lying next to him, surrounded by his scent, with Mustang's chest pressed to Ed's back, made him appreciate how solid the other man was. That much-resented difference in height meant that Ed was enveloped in his warmth when he wrapped him in his arms, and it was—wonderful. It was wonderful. The close, warm darkness of the room they'd built together, no immediate danger, and the night felt suddenly electric with possibilities. 

Mustang reached up and smoothed Ed's hair out of the way—his antenna was probably tickling him—and Ed was mortified to hear the catch in his own breath, the beginnings of a bitten-off moan. He was completely weak for his lovers playing with his hair and always had been. 

The other man froze. "Ed?"

"...yes?" The breathiness of his voice made him squeeze his eyes shut. _Let him just think it was my side hurting_ , Ed wished really hard. 

"Did I hurt you?"

"Uh. No. You're fine. Just my side." It sounded unconvincing to him. There was no way General Roy 'Schemer' Mustang was going to believe him. Shit. 

Mustang was quiet for moment. "Please forgive me if this is unwelcome, but...would you...like me to touch your hair? Would it make you feel better?"

 _Touch my hair, touch me anywhere you like_ , Ed thought wildly. _And also strike me dead where I lay, because I do not want to have this conversation._ "Uh. Roy. That's really nice of you. Um. But it would be better if you didn't."

"Okay," Mustang said, calmly. Fuck, the sound of his voice rumbling through his chest was something else. "I'm sorry if my question made you uncomfortable."

"No," said Ed, despairing. "It's okay." He paused, but he felt compelled to confess. "It would made me feel a little too much better, is all. Uh. Please never mention this night to anyone."

"Ah," said Mustang. Silence, again. A new note to this particular quiet. And then Mustang spoke again, sounding tentative. "And...if I said that I'd like to make you feel a lot better, how would you feel?"

Ed's heart began to pound. Surely this wasn't what it sounded like. This was just recklessness brought on by their close proximity in the warm dark, and the peculiar honesty that the darkness produced, the disconnection from the everyday world and its rules and consequences. Mustang couldn't mean it, not really. But it still wasn't in Ed not to take it, not even if it was for this one, never-repeated night. "I'd feel like you were kind of crazy, maybe because of jumping out of a train. You'd really want that, with me?"

Mustang's arms tightened around him. "Edward, you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, and brilliant and brave as well. I would be honoured to feel all sorts of things, with you."

Ed wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly. He flipped himself over so he could look Mustang in the eye, and damn the hole in his side. The man smiled at him, slow and devastating, and cupped Ed's face in his palm. He was so big, so solid, and so beautiful. Ed murmured to him in the honest darkness, "I've wanted you since before I knew what sex was. I'm not going to say no."

Ed actually saw the heat flare in Mustang's eye, before the man was kissing him. And oh, oh, this was better than anything Ed could ever have dreamed up, better than anything he'd ever had before, and it was only the first kiss. 

He couldn't wait for the rest. 


End file.
